


Entitled: A Portrait of Two Princes

by trashdemon



Category: EXO (Band), Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashdemon/pseuds/trashdemon
Summary: Criticised for being vain and spoilt, Crown Prince Zitao just wants respite from nobility. When he meets Sehun, a traveller unimpressed by his royalty, he’s enamoured. But Sehun has a secret – he’s a prince too, and he has an even worse reputation than Zitao.





	Entitled: A Portrait of Two Princes

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: ['还来得及 (Still In Time)'](https://youtu.be/EZIxrD-8DUg), ZTAO

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Stifling a laugh, Zitao ducked below the fist that came swinging for his head. He was pressed against the counter of the inn, penned in by five large men who were glowering down at him, axes swinging from their belts.

"You shouldn’t have messed with us," one of them growled. 

The man was probably right, but Zitao hadn’t been able to help himself when he saw the bar’s serving boy about to be pummelled for trying to stop the men from leaving without paying. Zitao had forgotten that he was in civilian clothes, without a sword by his side to cut the men down with a swipe. Judging by their weapons, the men were mercenaries, experienced in combat. But they were more drunk than he was and Zitao, who had the advantage of being trained under the best warriors in the country, struck two of them in the solar plexi. As they howled, he shoved them aside and made a dash for the door, pausing to toss a handful of coins at the serving boy as compensation for the earthenware smashed in the tussle. 

Just as Zitao was about to reach the exit, his boot slipped in a puddle of liquor and he would have fallen hard on his ass if one of the mercenaries hadn’t grabbed him by the shirt to throw him to the ground. Zitao broke the impact with a tumble and, keeping low to the sticky wine-stained floor, he squeezed between legs until he reached the staircase. He vaulted over the bannister and clambered to the upper floor of the inn, the mercenaries thundering up the steps behind him. Upstairs, Zitao was met by a dingy wooden corridor lined with rooms – a dead end. But in the dim candlelight he noticed a door left ajar and he ran for it, charging into the room and slamming the door behind him. 

As he rammed in the lock, someone cleared their throat. Zitao, putting on his sweet kitten face, turned. A young man stood by the bed, his small mouth slack and one severe eyebrow raised in a disinterested expression. He wore only trousers, arms folded over his broad rectangular chest. 

"Wrong room," the young man droned. 

Footsteps and gruff voices echoed from the corridor. Zitao jumped to the other side of the room and threw open the window, then grabbed the covers off the bed. 

The man spluttered. "What are you doing?" 

"If they come in here looking for me, tell them I escaped through the window," Zitao said, hiding himself in a bundle of blankets. 

"Are you ordering me around?" 

Zitao poked his head out from the sheets. "I’ll pay you." 

The man scoffed. "How pretentious. You think I need your money?" 

"I also offer payment in other forms," Zitao said, batting his eyes with a coy smile. 

The other’s response was interrupted by aggressive thumping on the door. Zitao dove under the blankets as the youth answered it. 

"Is he in here?" one of the mercenaries roared. 

Multiple sets of heavy boots stomped into the room and, as they drew near, Zitao held his breath, ready to spring... 

"He barged in and jumped out the window," the young man drawled. "Looked like he was heading for the forest." 

Swearing, the mercenaries left the room, hungry for blood. The young man locked the door behind them and Zitao silently praised his good looks for winning the stranger over. 

"My thanks to you," Zitao said, crawling out of the blankets. 

The man’s eyebrows furrowed and he leant over the bed towards Zitao, whose heartbeat shot up rapidly. The bare-chested man was cute, but Zitao would have preferred a little more warning. 

Then the man scoffed, "Is that the royal seal of Ehm?" 

Shocked, Zitao looked down to see that his royal seal had slipped out of his jacket. It swung on its yellow cord, the jade stone catching the light. The man reached forward for a better look but Zitao intercepted his outstretched arm, twisting it backwards as he pressed his dagger against the man’s neck. 

"Try me, I dare you," Zitao hissed. 

The man winced, but managed to keep his smirk up. "I’m the last person who’d steal that from you. Your status means nothing to me." 

"I’ve yet to meet anyone who can resist money and power." 

The man laughed. "Well, now you have. I travel solely to escape the realm of those desires." 

Zitao considered silently for a moment and then, assessing that he could overcome the man should it come to a fight, released him. "As do I. So I would appreciate it if you kept my identity secret." 

"What would you do if I didn’t?" the man teased, rubbing his throat and checking his fingers for blood. "What if I went around your country saying that one of the Ehm royalty is rampaging through the borderlands, trading his body for small favours?" 

Zitao sharply dug two fingers into the sensitive hollow behind the man’s clavicle, making the man squeal and writhe as Zitao forced him to the ground. 

Giving his winning smile, Zitao said, "Then I’d advise you that, while my proper title is Crown Prince of Ehm, the gossips and shit-talkers tend to refer to me sarcastically as ‘our dear Tao-Tao’." 

As Zitao sheathed his dagger and moved to leave the room, the other man burst into a guffawing fit of laughter. 

"So you’re the spoilt spendthrift prince I’ve heard so many complaints about. You’re almost as infamous here as I am back home." 

Unable to help his curiosity, Zitao asked, "And what’s the cause for your infamy?" 

The man shrugged. "I left my notoriety behind in Kae. In this country, I’m just Hun, a traveller free of titles and material burdens. But rest assured I’m no criminal. I’ll keep your secret, dear Tao-Tao." 

Hearing that name from the stranger caused something in Zitao’s chest to flutter, but he covered his discomfort by blowing a kiss on his way out. 

"Then I’ll bid you goodnight, Hun-ah," he said in a simpering voice, his confidence once again assured as he cut off the man’s protestations by shutting the door in his face. 

*** 

Sehun woke up looking forward to tucking into a hearty breakfast before beginning the journey home, having stayed away long enough for his moneybags to run dry. However, his enthusiasm plummeted when he saw Zitao sitting at one of the inn’s tables, shoving a pork bun into his mouth as the morning sun filtered through the window to cast a soft halo around his handsome profile. The prince must have stayed the night in another of the inn’s rooms. Grumbling to himself, Sehun chose a seat in a dark corner, away from the man who had disturbed him the night before. 

Picking at his pancake, Sehun surveyed the traders and soldiers of fortune sitting at the wooden tables, all resting in this little village on their way eastwards to Kae or west to the capital of Ehm. They weren’t necessarily malicious, but Zitao had been right about money and power holding reign over men’s hearts. How would they react if they knew they were under the same roof as not one prince but _two_? 

Sehun was still incredulous (and slightly pissed off) that of all the beautiful boys who could’ve come running into his room, it had to be a prince. There had been a moment of concern that Zitao might recognise Sehun as the second Prince of Kae, but since Sehun never bothered to attend diplomatic meetings, leaving the royal duties to his older half-brother Junmyeon, he and Zitao had not encountered each other before. Sehun imagined that the Ehm prince was undercover scouting for weaknesses in the Ehm-Kae border, probably as part of an elaborate Ehm scheme to break armistice between the two countries. But Zitao’s words and actions had inclined to the contrary, and Sehun saw in Zitao a reflection of his own yearning to be free. 

When Zitao finally upped and left, Sehun found his pancake tasted significantly better, and he finished his meal with renewed optimism. Gathering his belongings, he settled the bill and left the inn. 

As he walked down the quiet village path, Sehun heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned too late, finding himself surrounded by the five mercenaries who had been hunting Zitao, their axes already in hand as they leered down at him. 

"The accomplice," one of them growled. 

Sehun tried to keep calm, although a cold sweat chilled the back of his neck. Terribly outnumbered, he had no chance of reaching the sword wrapped and hidden in his pack. 

"Sorry," Sehun said. "I think you have the wrong guy." 

A mercenary lurched forward and grabbed Sehun by the throat, squeezing his windpipe. Gasping for breath, Sehun clawed uselessly at the muscular bulk of the man’s arm. Before Sehun could flinch from an incoming axe blow, the mercenary’s mean eyes flew wide open, then his mouth gaped, blood spilling over his lips. His grip loosened and Sehun stumbled back as the mercenary slumped to the ground in a puddle of his own blood. Standing over the body was Crown Prince Zitao, sword in hand and a smirk on his face. 

Clamouring like hounds, the remaining mercenaries attacked. Zitao stepped forward, protecting Sehun, dodging the heavy swing of an axe to pierce a man sideways through the abdomen. He drew back, and suddenly Sehun was left exposed to three mercenaries charging towards him. 

"Tao!" Sehun blurted out, a burst of embarrassment breaking through his fear. Had he really just called for the prince’s help? 

A horse whinnied, and Sehun turned to see Zitao astride a white mare, his arm outstretched. Sehun grabbed it, and Zitao swung him onto the back of the horse. The mercenaries scattered as the horse galloped through them, taking a sharp turn that almost threw Sehun off. He managed to scrabble a hold onto Zitao’s shirt, and Zitao reached behind to tug Sehun’s arm, wrapping it around his middle. Sehun, tight against Zitao’s back with his nose buried in the nape of his neck, noticed that Zitao smelt really good, and he surreptitiously pressed a little closer. 

Leaving the village behind, they dove into the dense quiet of the forest. 

"They’re not following us, are they?" Zitao asked. 

Sehun scanned behind them. "No." 

Zitao slowed his horse as the forest grew more dense, eventually coming to a halt by a small stream. In the dim light, surrounded by a monotony of trees in all directions, Sehun realised he was isolated with a foreign prince. 

"You’ve abducted me!" he said. 

Zitao stopped petting his horse and frowned. "I just saved your life. Besides, I’m the one who should be more worried about being held ransom, not you." 

Sehun almost retaliated that he was worth just as much as Zitao, but he caught his tongue in time. Scowling, he sat on a rock and picked at a dead leaf. 

"You should’ve killed the other men. They’ll come after you now." 

Zitao shrugged. "That was enough bloodshed for one morning." 

"Oh?" Sehun teased, "Is that the attitude of a prince who’ll one day hold armies in his palm?" 

Zitao pouted, but he chose to ignore Sehun for a bit, instead feeding his horse an apple while murmuring, "Good girl, Candy." 

Then, sighing, he sat cross-legged on the forest floor, a position so humble that Sehun was slightly taken aback. 

"The first time I captained a company was five years ago to defend the southern border. We won, but looking at all those corpses on the battlefield..." 

"You’ve been in battle before?" Sehun was surprised. He himself had never swung a sword outside of the training grounds. 

"Many times. I’m a military genius," Zitao proclaimed, chest puffed with pride. Then he deflated, eyes shadowing. "Not that that’s any use in court. All they talk is riddles. They tell me I have to act like a noble, but then they criticise me for dressing in clothes that are _too_ fine. How could anyone stand being cooped up in that palace?" 

Dusting off his pants, Zitao began to lead his horse away and Sehun yelped, "Are you abandoning me?" 

"I thought you didn’t want to be kidnapped," Zitao said, his face cheeky as he continued into the forest for a bit before stopping to let Sehun catch up. "Come on. I’ve heard there’s an impressive waterfall about a day’s journey from here. Care to see it?" 

Walking through the forest with Zitao on his left and the stream to his right, Sehun felt serene, the crisp air cooling his lungs and quieting his mind. He fobbed off Zitao’s persistent inquiries into his past, giving his travelling companion mysterious smiles instead. 

"Let’s wager," Zitao declared. "If I can guess the cause for your ill repute, then you’ll owe me." 

"Owe you what?" 

Zitao considered for a moment. "A favour. To be determined." 

Sehun snorted. "That’s a terrible deal. No wonder you’re no good at politics." 

Zitao scowled and Sehun laughed, thinking how the Ehm prince had probably napped through all of his political lessons, just as Sehun had. 

"I’ll accept it," Sehun said, confident Zitao would never guess that Sehun was the second son of the Queen of Kae. "But if you guess three times wrongly, then you’ll owe me instead." 

Zitao made a disgruntled sound. "Make it ten guesses!" 

"Five," Sehun said, holding out his hand. 

Zitao clasped it with a huff, then bit his lip in consideration. 

"Let’s see... You’re well-spoken and your clothing is tailored despite its simple cut," he said. "You don’t know how to fight, so..." 

"I do know how to fight!" Sehun said. 

"Oh?" Zitao smirked. "So it was for an entirely different reason that, rather than take down those assailants yourself, you called out for my assistance?" 

Sehun snapped, "Just guess already." 

Zitao shook his head. "No, not yet. I’ll wheedle some more information out of you yet." 

But despite his challenge, Zitao didn’t persist in asking the questions Sehun refused to answer. Instead, Zitao pointed out the clusters of white mushrooms that sprouted from deadwood like old men’s beards, and recounted their wound-healing properties. When a bird trilled, he stopped Sehun with a gentle hand on the wrist, pushed a finger to his pretty lips and then pointed upwards at an inconspicuous brown wren nestled in the tree branches. Zitao paused to listen, smiling, and Sehun wondered what sort of prince would marvel at a common bird’s song. 

By nightfall, they had followed the stream to where the tributary met the Paoxiao River, the landmark dividing the countries Ehm and Kae. They made camp up from the river bank, dining on the bread they’d packed. As they chatted comfortably in the light of the campfire. Sehun could almost believe they really were a pair of commoners without the weight of kingdoms on their shoulders. Zitao caught Sehun’s gaze and lingered with something deeper than curiosity, something closer to a longing. 

_It’s a desire to be free_ , Sehun told himself. _For both of us to be free like this forever._

Zitao shifted closer, and Sehun became overwhelmingly aware of the crackle of the fire, the rustle of grass beneath Zitao’s fingers, the thundering of his pulse. 

"Can I make a guess?" Zitao said. 

The intensity settled and Sehun rolled his eyes in permission. 

Zitao shuffled with excitement. "I imagine that you were once a royal scholar who defected, becoming infamous for spreading heresy and raising dissidence against the Kae monarchy." 

Sehun guffawed. 

"Was I close?" Zitao asked eagerly. 

"Not quite," Sehun said, although if he considered it, Zitao’s guess was partially true — he had gotten a bad reputation for publicly criticising the state’s bureaucracy. But the people deserved to know that the ministers were greedy conmen, only interested in lining their own pockets with gold while adulating the queen to gain her favour. Unfortunately, as Sehun refused to participate in the hypocritical court and instead escaped on long journeys, the ministers used this to turn public opinion against him, labelling Sehun an indolent, loud-mouthed brat who didn’t deserve the luxuries of a prince. 

"I’ll get it right next time," Zitao grumbled, setting out his sleeping roll. 

As he prepared his own mat, Sehun smiled at the idea of two princes sleeping close to the earth, with no roof but the stars above them, like a pair of renegades from a ballad. 

They reached the waterfall by noon the next day, the high sun casting rainbows through the vapour that hung ethereal over the falls. Standing at its base, they stared in awe. Then Zitao tied Candy to a tree and, over the roar of the falls, yelled at Sehun to follow him. They climbed up the rocky embankment, warning each other of slippery ledges, until they reached the top. Sliding his hand into Sehun’s, Zitao tiptoed to the edge of the rocky overhanging and hooted. Far below the tips of his boots, white water churned. 

"Dare me to jump?" Zitao shouted. 

"No!" Sehun cried. "You’ll dash your brains out!" 

Grinning maniacally, Zitao lunged towards the edge, and for a terrifying moment Sehun was certain the prince would slip and go hurtling to his death, but Zitao righted himself with a wild laugh, clutching at Sehun’s arm that he hadn’t even realised he’d outstretched. Still laughing, Zitao pointed a finger at Sehun’s terrified expression, amused by his shock. Grasping Sehun around the shoulders as if to reassure the other man of his presence, Zitao led them around the lip of the cliff until they were standing above a calmer body of azure water. 

Sehun looked across the wide stretch of the river to Kae — his home and his country. He envisaged it stretching on and on, to the mountains and beyond to the sea, and felt dwarfed by its immensity. Who could bear the responsibility of something so vast? 

There was a shuffling beside him and Sehun turned to find the Crown Prince of Ehm slipping out of his robes. 

A heat rose uncontrollably to Sehun’s face. "What are you doing?" 

Standing in just his underpants and without a shred of embarrassment, Zitao spread his arms. "Do you dare me now?" 

Still hot in the face, Sehun rolled his eyes. "Do what you want." 

Zitao peeked over the edge and shrieked. "Shit! No, no way, that’s too high." 

Bundling up his clothes, Zitao made his way back down the bank. Sehun followed, trying not to let his eyes get too distracted by Zitao’s near nude state. 

"Scared of heights?" Sehun taunted. 

"Yes!" Zitao admitted without reserve. "I took a terrible fall when I was nine and almost died! I was unconscious for days." 

Sehun found himself strangely upset to hear about Zitao’s scrape with death. They reached the bottom of the falls and Zitao threw his clothes aside before jumping into the clear river so carelessly that Sehun feared the prince would smash into the stony bank. But Zitao rose to the surface, water running in rivulets down his face as he tossed back his hair. 

"Come on!" Zitao beckoned, beaming like the sun. 

Sehun smiled back as he discarded his own clothes and leapt into the water. He plunged into the blue depths, then surfaced with a shriek. 

"It’s freezing!" 

Zitao laughed through chattering teeth, and up close Sehun could see the shivers wracking Zitao’s body, sending the beads of water quivering on the expanse of his skin. 

He clutched Sehun’s shoulders with clammy fingers, voice shrill as he giggled, "I know!" 

Sehun flicked a spray of water into Zitao’s face and the prince drew back, screaming and laughing. Zitao retaliated with a splash, but Sehun swam past him, towards the waterfall. He pulled himself out of the water onto a rocky ledge, then leapt to the next one, moving closer to the thundering falls. Zitao joined him, and they navigated the rocks, battered by the noise and the spray, until they found a way into the cave behind the falls. 

Zitao jumped into the dim cavern first. Sehun followed and Zitao caught him in his arms, his lips brushing Sehun’s neck. They staggered together on the wet stone and Sehun buried his nose under the line of Zitao’s jaw, inhaling deeply. 

Zitao laughed. "Like what you smell?" 

Sehun hummed. Sweet feminine perfume hung musky over the tang of sweat, and Sehun was overcome by a desire to consume. He pressed his tongue against Zitao’s neck, tasting the flat mineral of the river and the salt of his body. Zitao stiffened, and Sehun drew away to sit at the mouth of the cave, facing the falls. 

"I like it here," he said as Zitao sat beside him. "It feels like a place beyond time." 

Zitao peered at him. "You’re running from something, aren’t you?" When Sehun didn’t answer, Zitao watched the rushing water before continuing. "I have a cottage in a village near the mountains. I stay there when I want to get away to some place where no one knows me. If you wanted to, you could come hide with me for a while." 

Sehun raised an eyebrow. "Are you inviting me home with you?" 

Zitao giggled. "I suppose I am. What do you say?" 

Sehun looked at the man before him, who had his long limbs hugged to his bare chest, face alight with an unabashed grin. A prince, but at heart just a boy. Both of them were, here behind the waterfall where they were free of possessions and titles and the immensity of the world. 

Sehun smiled. "I accept." 

*** 

The village was nestled in the great green expanse of the valley, overlooked by the white caps of the mountains. Zitao led Sehun and Candy past the simple houses, waving to the villagers and stopping to purchase produce. 

A little girl playing by the road lit up at the sight of him and called into her house, "Mama, the rich young master’s back!" 

Sehun looked ready to tease and Zitao gave him a playful shove. The girl’s mother emerged from the house, carrying a small basket. 

"You came at the right time," she said. "I just made a batch." 

"What is it?" Sehun asked. 

Zitao took a piece from its rice paper wrapping and popped it into Sehun’s mouth. 

"Candy?" 

"He loves it," the little girl announced. "He even named his horse after it." 

"I really do," Zitao said, handing coins to the girl. "Please make more!" 

Zitao’s cottage was a tiny building secluded from the rest of the village. Sehun surveyed the sole room, which was bare apart from cupboards and a low table. 

"Wow," Sehun said. "You can put up in such a simple house?" 

Zitao set down his purchases on the table and rolled his eyes. "Hun-ah, you’ve seen me sleeping on the forest floor." 

Sehun poked in the basket for another sweet. "True, but I was expecting something more extravagant from the rich young master." 

Zitao grabbed Sehun’s hand and led the candy to his own mouth, licking the sugar off Sehun’s fingers. With kitten eyes, Zitao looked up at the other man, whose expression was unreadable. 

"I’ll buy you something better if you want," Zitao said, stroking Sehun’s fingers. The pads were too soft to be used to manual labour. 

Sehun turned away. "I don’t want it." 

The furrow on Sehun’s brow was almost contemptuous, and in that instance Zitao was terrified. He knew that Sehun despised opulence and shows of wealth, and he loved him for it, but what if Zitao disgusted him too? 

"Then I don’t need anything more either," Zitao said, cupping a hand around Sehun’s neck. 

When Sehun turned to him with cheeks pushed up in a smile, a weight fell off Zitao’s chest and he pulled Sehun tight against him, wanting the other to know that this was all he needed — Sehun’s body in his arms, Sehun’s attention and affection. 

"I love you," he breathed against Sehun’s mouth. "I love you." 

Sehun snorted. "Do you say that to every stranger you bring home?" 

That stung a little. Zitao nipped at Sehun’s lip. "Considering you’re the only stranger I’ve brought here, yes." 

"You’re a hopeless romantic," Sehun said, and pressed back harder. 

But Zitao was quite certain Sehun was just as much a romantic. He slept lightly out of habit and awoke one night as Sehun rose from beside him. Through lidded eyes, he watched Sehun write poetry under the moonlight. Illuminated silver, brush moving like water in his hands, Sehun was so alluring, Zitao could believe he was a celestial being descended to Earth. 

"Can I make my second guess?" Zitao asked. 

Sehun nodded behind his bowl. They were sitting at the table, eating a home-cooked dinner of pork bone soup with noodles. It was their usual meal, surprisingly tasty despite the two boys’ lack of culinary skills. 

"I guess that you were a poet whose work enchanted the Queen of Kae herself. But when she asked you to become poet laureate, you declined, thus incurring disgrace and ill repute." 

Sehun slammed his bowl on the table, startling Zitao. Could it be that his wild guess had struck true? 

"Did you read them?" Sehun demanded. "My poems?" 

Zitao wanted to reach out and soothe the other, but he kept his hands close instead. "No, I just saw you writing in the middle of the night. It was too dark for me to read." 

Sehun glanced at his pack, thrown into a corner of the room, then looked back at Zitao, eyes worried. "You didn’t go through my belongings?" 

"Would I be so rude?" Zitao shot back. 

"Sorry," Sehun mumbled. "Can you promise me that you won’t look into my bag?" 

Zitao clasped Sehun’s hand. "Of course. I trust you, Hun-ah." 

Sehun looked down at the table. Zitao’s heart sank with disappointment, but he didn’t push it. 

"I’ll have to leave soon," Zitao said quietly. "The north-western state will be mobilising troops for an attack and they are no easy opponent. I’ll be needed at the front line." 

"I see," Sehun said, although his focus was still distracted. 

"But while I’m gone, if you ever need a place to run to, Hun-ah, you’re always welcome here." 

Sehun smiled, and it gave Zitao the confidence to continue. 

"So maybe I can meet you back here in two months’ time? If you wanted to... And if I survive the battle of course," Zitao laughed. 

"Of course you will," Sehun said, finally seeming at ease after the mention of his poems. 

Zitao swelled with pride. "Yes, I am a military genius." 

Sehun scoffed. "Either way, I’m sure your troops would sooner die than let harm come to your royal face." 

Did Sehun really think Zitao would put his soldiers at risk just to protect his appearance? The anger he’d felt from being scorned and derided back in the Ehm Court returned, searing through him like hot oil. 

"Don’t speak about people’s lives like that," Zitao said heatedly. "I’d burn my face off if it meant I could save them." 

"Ah, to be so noble a prince." 

Zitao stood suddenly, fists clenched. "Well, is it so wrong to be? To do my job and protect the people? I didn’t orchestrate these power wars, Hun. I didn’t create this world where people are sent to die for another man’s greed. But this is the station to which I was allocated, so shouldn’t I fulfil my duty as best I can?" 

Zitao made to storm off, but cool fingers wrapped around his wrist and he looked down at Sehun, who was still seated. A smile played at the corner of Sehun’s lips as he pulled Zitao down into his arms. As Sehun kissed him, Zitao melted, and he let out a disgruntled little mewl. 

"You’re so dramatic," Sehun teased, wiping tears of frustration from Zitao’s eyes as Zitao squirmed in Sehun’s arms. "You know I love you anyway, right?" 

Zitao hummed, Sehun’s words sending a small thrill through him. He kept pressing kisses under Sehun’s ears, tangling him in his long limbs. 

"Two months," Sehun said, holding Zitao’s face between his hands so he could look at him properly. "Don’t die on me." 

"Okay, okay," Zitao huffed, eager to get his face back against Sehun’s skin. 

Sehun laughed at his eagerness, letting his hands run down Zitao’s cheeks. Then they were both laughing, gripping and shoving at each other, and Zitao bubbled with happiness, his mind singing, _He’d come back for me!_

*** 

One of the best things about being the loved and respected childhood friend of the Prince of Ehm was that Minseok had always been privy to the warm-hearted side of Zitao’s personality kept hidden from the rest of the court. 

The downside, however, was that everyone expected him to chase up after Zitao, which itself could be a whole other job, but Minseok had to juggle this on top of being General of the Ehm Army when he would much rather spend his downtime on other matters. 

Minseok waited off the road outside the village, resting in tree shade while his horse, Tan, grazed beside him. He had left the capital a few days before the battalion was due to depart so that he could travel with Zitao from the mountains to the north-western border where they would reconvene with the troops. He was, of course, precisely on time. What surprised him, however, was that Zitao was too, the prince grinning as he traipsed through the grass towards his friend. 

"Is this a mirage?" Minseok said, eyes wide in mock surprise. "Or has a monster of punctuality assumed your likeness?" 

Zitao laughed and engulfed Minseok in a hug. "Aren’t you proud of me? And I brought you a hot lunch." 

That did indeed warm Minseok’s spirits, and they sat out of sight from the road to eat the basket of pan-fried buns. It would have been nice to eat a meal fresh from a kitchen in the village, but Minseok was carrying both Zitao’s armour and his own, and it would be unwise to draw too much attention in the place where Zitao spent so much of his recreational time. 

"How’s Luhan?" Zitao asked, a sparkle in his eye. 

Minseok grunted. "Just sitting at home, writing reports. The usual." 

"Isn’t he headed to Kae for further negotiations?" 

"He wasn’t to leave until tomorrow," Minseok took an aggressive bite. "The same day as the troops." 

"Ahh," Zitao said, a cheeky knowing smile spreading. "So that’s why you’re so grumpy." 

Minseok squinted at him. "What do you mean?" 

Zitao nuzzled Minseok’s shoulder and said in a baby voice, "I’m sorry. I took you away from your time at home with Luhan." 

Rolling his eyes, Minseok batted a giggling Zitao away. But it was true, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he could have been doing with Luhan instead of taking a four-day detour to fetch Zitao. Between their positions, Luhan a high-ranking diplomat and himself responsible for the entire army, they never had much leisure time together. 

"You should bring him along next time," Zitao said, and Minseok was ready to make a sarcastic reply until he realised that Zitao was speaking seriously. "It isn’t too far off from the route he takes to Kae. He could meet his entourage at the border." 

That was a sweet idea, and Minseok was already having pleasant thoughts of travelling through the countryside with Luhan. 

"A getaway for just the two of you," Zitao added softly, his gaze unfocused and whimsical, and Minseok knew it wasn’t his old friends preoccupying his mind. 

Minseok peered at him, bemused and a little surprised. "You met someone, didn’t you?" 

Zitao started, "I said nothing of the sort!" 

"It’s written all over your face," Minseok chuckled. "Are they from the village?" 

Zitao bit his lip, then relinquished. "No, he’s a traveller. From Kae." 

That raised alarm bells, but Minseok was careful to be sensitive. "Does he know you’re the Prince of Ehm?" 

Again, Zitao paused before answering. "Yes." Then before Minseok could interject, he said in a rush, "But I knew to look after myself; I slept with a dagger at hand until I was certain I could trust him, and although I doubt he’s a spy, I still revealed nothing that could—" 

"It’s okay, Zitao," Minseok said, squeezing his friend’s thigh. "I know you’re not completely reckless." 

It wasn’t ideal, Zitao becoming so close to a foreign vagrant, but you couldn’t help these things, could you? Minseok knew he had been lucky to find Luhan, a fellow noble and a gem of sincerity amongst the court. Zitao deserved to have someone like that too, whatever their station in life. Minseok would not deprive his friend of that happiness unless the risks were too great. Until then, he would trust in Zitao’s discretion. 

Zitao sighed. "I think we’re ill-fated though. I love him far too much, but ultimately I think... I think he’ll run from me." 

Minseok stood and patted Zitao’s cheek. "Let’s be off then. Let’s fight our battles so we can return to them." 

Smiling, Zitao took Minseok’s hand, and Minseok pulled him to his feet and into another hug. 

*** 

Lying on the silk-cushioned chaise in his chamber, book forgotten on his lap, Sehun gazed out the window at the flowers blooming in the garden and wished Zitao were here to share the view with him. 

But Zitao would be engaged in battle now, and Sehun imagined him splattered in blood with violence in his expression like when he’d saved Sehun from those mercenaries. He mapped Zitao’s body in his mind, recalling the scars that twisted over his skin. Would he return to Sehun with new ones? Would he return at all? 

At mid afternoon, the fanfare started. Junmyeon’s company was due to return today, and although Sehun had never before worried when Junmyeon left for his military duties, he was suddenly anxious. He slipped out of his room and slunk through the corridors to the front of the palace, nestling into a dark corner where he could stay out of sight. Over the heads of the gathering court, Sehun watched the procession pass through the inner gate. Leading them was Junmyeon, looking tired but never losing his soft kindness. Sehun smiled at the sight of his half-brother and slipped away as Junmyeon continued into the castle to formally greet their mother. 

Later, Junmyeon found him in his chamber and insisted they take a walk outside given the mild spring weather. 

"It’s good to see you safe at home again," Sehun said. "You weren’t injured in battle were you?" 

Junmyeon laughed and reached up to ruffle Sehun’s hair. "Ah, I feel so touched that you’re worrying about me! No, I’m fine. My role is mainly tactical anyway." 

"But you still have to fight?" 

"I doubt anyone would respect me if I didn’t!" 

Sehun sank down onto a bench. "I’m sorry." 

"Whatever for?" Junmyeon asked, sitting beside Sehun and squeezing him around the shoulders. 

"You have to be the prince for both of us. You always work so hard and I just..." 

"Sehun, it’s okay. I know it’s difficult for you, but as long as I’m here, I’m more than willing to act the prince. Do what makes you happy. I give you permission." Junmyeon chuckled as Sehun gave him a slap on the thigh. "You’re only young once." 

Sehun snorted. "You’re young too. You just have the sense of humour of an old man." 

"Ah, the price I must pay for my infinite wisdom." 

An advisor was hurrying towards them, ready to summon Junmyeon to his next engagement. 

Junmyeon stood and patted Sehun’s head again. "I know you can’t tolerate that guy. I’d better leave before you engage him in verbal warfare." 

"You’re too good for this court," Sehun muttered. 

Laughing, Junmyeon walked back to the main building, following behind the advisor and turning so Sehun could see the stupid faces he was pulling behind the advisor’s back. 

"Old man," Sehun admonished, although he couldn’t help but smile. 

*** 

The closer Zitao drew to the mountain village, the tighter his insides wound with anxiety. Although the battle in the northwest had gone well, there had been losses nonetheless and he had left the capital city melancholic from the funeral rites. It should have been joyous travelling to see Sehun again, but Zitao’s mind kept sieving through the worst of his memories, and all he could seem to remember was Sehun’s cold disregard for his wealth and status. 

This time, he waved to the villagers as he passed but didn’t stop until he reached his cottage. He shuffled down the dirt path to his home, his gaze on his shoes, telling himself that it was fine if Sehun never came back, that the good times they’d already shared were a blessing enough... 

"I’ve waited four days for you, and yet you’re still dawdling?" 

Zitao looked up. There was a scowl on Sehun’s handsome brow, but below that his eyes were playful and his arms were open for a hug. 

"Hun-ah!" Zitao cried. 

In Sehun’s embrace, his worries dissolved and he began talking in a rush, asking if Sehun had eaten or if he’d had any difficulties on his journey. Their conversation was instantly familiar, and their bodies seemed magnetised, never losing contact with each other. 

Arm twined around Sehun’s, Zitao took Candy to the stable, to find another white horse stalled. 

"There should be space for both Candy and Vivi, right?" Sehun said, guiding his horse aside to make more room for the two animals. 

"Of course," Zitao said, unsaddling Candy before examining Sehun’s stallion. "He’s very well bred. I can’t imagine him belonging to anyone but a noble." Combing Vivi’s mane, Zitao teased, "Are you secretly the son of a lord? Otherwise I can only imagine you’re an excellent horse thief." 

Sehun gruffly grabbed Zitao’s arm and pulled him out of the stable. "I’m neither. Now that’s another two guesses gone. You’d better use your last one wisely." 

"Hun-ah!" Zitao whined. "I was kidding! That’s so unfair!" 

Laughing, Sehun ran into the wildflowers, and Zitao chased after him before tackling him to the ground, his complaints losing their petulance as he was comforted by the warmth of Sehun in his arms. 

*** 

With the heat of summer starting to set in, they journeyed on horseback to Huangjin Lake, which Zitao insisted was incredibly refreshing this time of year. He didn’t let Sehun down and, as the sunset gleamed golden over the lake, catching on the wet sheen of their bodies, Sehun marvelled at how liberated he felt floating besides Zitao. Skimming the water’s surface, their hands brushed together, and Zitao latched his pinky around Sehun’s thumb. Buoyant, Sehun let his eyes close. 

They spent the night in a small village, midway between the lake and Zitao’s house in the mountains, and ate dinner at the local teahouse, dressed a little too well to blend in with the locals. Sehun overheard the nearby farmers’ angry conversation. 

"The springtime harvest was nowhere near adequate. Now drought looms, and I fear debt will be the death of my family." 

One of the farmers spat, "We were fools to believe the government’s promises of tax exemption. All they did was freeze our tax rates and offer a handful of seeds as ‘aid’." 

"It’s easy to spin lies when sitting on a gold throne." 

Sehun glanced at Zitao, but the prince had his head down, quietly eating spoonfuls of porridge. And then the farmers spoke what he’d dreaded to hear. 

"There’s only one person I hate more than my landlord," a farmer said, stabbing his chopsticks in the air, "and that’s the Crown Prince. They say he wears a new silk outfit every day, and each is worth more than eight plots of land." 

"He’s a brat, good for nothing but squandering the country’s money. It’s his fault that we’re suffering, that our children are dying!" 

And although these were all criticisms that Sehun had once spoken of about the Kae court, a defensiveness steeled his chest and he thought, _Zitao went to war for you_. 

The farmers continued ranting. "Money cannot mask a rotten heart." 

"He’s a demon. They say he has cruel eyes and that his mouth is always snarling, like a leopard devouring a hare." 

Suddenly, Zitao grabbed Sehun by the nape of the neck, yanking him close and scraping his teeth over his jugular. 

Zitao whispered into his ear, "Leopards are pretty sexy, don’t you think?" 

His skin tingling, Sehun laughed, stroking the side of Zitao’s face. 

"I think you might be a little sexier," he said, embarrassed, but Zitao’s shrieking delight was worth it. 

*** 

They slowly walked their horses up the winding path to their home in the mountains, the hot summer sun drawing sweat from their backs. Just outside the village, half hidden among the trees, were two familiar figures, one waving exaggeratedly with his small jaw hanging open. 

"Minseok! Luhan!" Zitao called, trotting towards his friends. 

Zitao dismounted, chittering with excitement as he gestured for Sehun to join them. Sehun seemed apprehensive, but Zitao tugged him close, a protective hand around his waist as he introduced his countrymen. Minseok was smiling politely, but Luhan’s usual easy-going grin flickered, a confused quirk flitting over his brow. 

"This is Hun," Zitao chirped, giving a Sehun a squeeze to try to relax him. 

"Hun, did you say?" Luhan asked, his frown deepening. "And you’re from Kae?" 

"Ah, yes." Sehun dipped his chin. "Pleasure to meet you, but if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to share a private word with Zitao before he leaves..." 

Zitao was a little shocked at Sehun’s hastiness to exit, but he didn’t want Sehun to feel uncomfortable in front of his friends. "You head home first, Hun-ah. I just need to see Luhan off and then I’ll be back." 

Sehun gripped Zitao’s arm urgently, but Zitao gave him his best reassuring smile and nudged him towards his horse. 

"I won’t leave without saying goodbye, I promise." 

With one last glance at Luhan, Sehun mounted Vivi and rode into the village. 

"What was that about?" Zitao asked Luhan. If there was someone who had any ideas about the ‘infamous’ Hun, it would be the diplomat who spent half his time in Kae. 

His good humour extinguished, Luhan was grave as he said, "You don’t know who he is?" 

Zitao shook his head. Luhan gave Minseok an uncertain look, but the general’s eyes were steely. 

A million possibilities – all the unasked questions, the unspoken guesses – tumbled through Zitao’s mind, and panic rose in his chest. "Luhan! Who is he?" Zitao demanded. 

Luhan sighed, then relented. "He’s a prince, Your Highness – Prince Sehun, second son of the Queen of Kae." 

Zitao froze. The sweat on his back suddenly seemed freezing, and he was acutely aware of a single drop oozing down the length of his spine. 

"The Prince of Kae," he mouthed, and it made sense, really – Sehun’s articulation, his denial of authority, his arrogance that matched Zitao’s own... 

Zitao leapt onto Candy and, ignoring his friends calling after him, galloped through the village until he reached the cottage. He threw open the door and Sehun faced him from across a room in which they’d spent so many nights together. 

"Prince of Kae." The words dropped from Zitao’s lips like acid, bitter and stinging. 

Sehun ground his jaw. "Does it change anything?" 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Zitao cried. "Or just leave me in the dark while I spilled my heart to you?" 

"Any other possibility seemed fine to you," Sehun said, fists clenched. "You didn’t care if I were thief, a murderer..." 

" _I_ murdered for you, Hun. I would’ve–" Zitao broke off with a grunt. 

_I would’ve sacrificed an army for you_ , is what had been on the tip of his tongue, but the thought was profane. Protecting Kae royalty at the expense of his own people... the notion reeked so strongly of betrayal, it was nauseating. 

"I really loved you," Zitao whispered, and the first tear fell from his lashes. 

Sehun grasped both Zitao’s hands. "Run away with me. Fuck royal titles, Zitao. Let’s run away together." 

Zitao grimaced. "What are you talking about?" 

"Our bet. You never guessed correctly, did you? This is the favour I ask of you. Run away with me." 

Zitao ripped his hands out of Sehun’s. "Do you think this is a fucking game? I have a duty to this country, and I’ve battled smear campaigns, conspiracies, and threats against my life to fulfil it. And you’re asking me to abandon it?" 

"They don’t care about you!" Sehun yelled. His voice, so rarely raised, seemed to echo. "A favour. You promised me." 

Zitao scooped up the remnants of his belongings. "No, Sehun. I never made a fifth guess. I owe you nothing." 

And Zitao left him, catching a glimpse of what may have been wetness dotting Sehun’s lower lids, or perhaps just a trick of the light swimming in Zitao’s own tears. 

*** 

When Sehun returned to the Kae palace, that meddlesome diplomat from Ehm, Luhan, had already arrived, acting chummy with the ministers in typical ambassadorial fashion. One day, Sehun turned into a corridor to find Luhan walking straight towards him, and the bastard actually had the nerve to call after him as Sehun sprinted back the way he’d come. 

Too moody to write, Sehun loitered in the corners of the royal garden with his brush limp in his hand, dripping ink onto the blank paper. As much as he wanted to blame Luhan for messing things up, Sehun knew it was his own fault. Running away had been a fantasy, some dream of living in poverty, subsisting on love alone that Sehun had romanticised. But that life in the cottage – that wasn’t real poverty. That was leisure supported by the coffers of a nation. Zitao had been prepared put down his life for it, but Sehun still couldn’t bring himself to. 

Junmyeon continued to fulfil both their princely duties, facilitating negotiations for the peace treaty. Soon the conditions were finalised and Luhan departed to gain final approval from Ehm. A week later, a messenger arrived with an announcement: Ehm agreed to the treaty terms and would send a representative to sign the peace treaty on the kingdom’s behalf – His Royal Highness Crown Prince Zitao. 

The night before the Ehm consort was due to arrive, Sehun spent the night restless, his mind buzzing. Every few hours, he sat up and ground an inkstick but, devoid of inspiration, he would return to bed, leaving the ink to dry on the stone. 

The whole court and palace staff milled at the front gate, curious about the Ehm people who would soon become their allies. Sehun let the crowd swallow him. At the second gate, Junmyeon stood, waiting to receive the guests. 

The reedy voice of a guard warbled, announcing the arrival of the visitors, and the crowd fell quiet, instead craning forward as a collective. Sehun found himself peering too but, at the sight of Zitao riding through that pale grey arch, his breath caught. 

Zitao was dressed in a black silk robe that flowed like ink, the long sleeves rippling like brush strokes over Candy’s white coat. Large gold earrings hung heavy from lobes that Sehun had seen pierced but never adorned. Zitao radiated prosperity and power, but from here in the crowd, Sehun understood why the people hated him. With his defined jaw and nose held high in the air, Zitao looked arrogant in his wealth, and the cheekiness in his sharp eyes seemed mocking. Watching from below, it was easy to despise him. 

As Junmyeon and Zitao bowed to each other, Sehun headed to the gardens. Zitao was an imperious prick, just like all the rumours said, and Sehun hated him. Never mind the boy who teased and tickled him, who screamed when chickens ruffled their feathers, who practised making noodles until his face was streaked with flour. Never mind the boy who’d said he loved him. Sehun summoned the image of Crown Prince Zitao in royal black, wearing an estate’s worth of gold on his ears. 

"I hate him," Sehun hissed, trampling through the peonies, the damp petals clinging to his shoes. 

He reached the lake, leaves scattered across its mirrored surface, and climbed into the small boat tied at the bank. Brushing off the attendant who was desperate to assist him, Sehun rowed out by himself to the pavilion standing solitary in the centre of the lake. He sat in the shade of the hexagonal structure, positioning himself so that the attendant on the bank wouldn’t be visible and he could believe that he was truly alone. What he really wanted, though, was to be in the mountains with Zitao, floating in crystal clear spring water. 

His eyes grew wet, but the tears didn’t fall, and he sat in the pavilion watching wisps of clouds shift across the sky, trying not to think of Zitao lying beside him, smiling with a cheek pressed against the crook of his elbow. 

He dozed off, slumped across the pavilion bench, and was awoken a few hours later by a voice that emerged as if from a dream. 

"Hun-ah!" 

Blinking in the late afternoon sun, Sehun squinted across the lake to the person calling his name. 

"Tao?" he yelped, incredulous. 

The Crown Prince of Ehm was bounding across the garden towards the lake, leaping over the flowerbeds with his robes billowing behind him. The grin on his face was bursting with love and Sehun’s heart ached to see it. Sehun stepped to the edge of the pavilion, where the lake lapped against the tiled foundation. 

"Hun-ah!" Zitao cried. 

A guard stepped forward, but lowered his polearm when Sehun shouted, "Stand down!" 

With a final spring over the shrubbery, Zitao was at the bank of the lake, but he made no indication of slowing. Before Sehun could move towards the boat, Zitao launched himself into the water, priceless robes and all. 

"Tao! What the fuck! Stop!" Sehun yelled as Zitao swam towards the pavilion, torrents of water splashing from his sleeves with each stroke of his arms. 

Without a thought, Sehun jumped in too, spluttering as his heavy clothes weighed him down. Their bodies collided in the middle of the lake and they struggled to cling to one another, wet limbs flailing. But Zitao was laughing and Sehun could smell, over the dank stagnant water, the sweetness of his perfume, and he pressed his mouth to whatever skin he could find as Zitao squeezed a fistful of Sehun’s hair and whispered, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry..." 

Sehun pulled Zitao to the pavilion and they lay on the ground, soaked but still holding each other. Zitao had come back for him, and this was all Sehun had ever needed. 

"It’s my fault," Sehun mumbled, squeezing the water out of a clump of Zitao’s hair. "I should never have asked that of you." 

"No, it’s mine. I was just so shocked to find out you were a prince when I’d come to think of you as my escape from that world. But later, I realised... that’s not why I love you." 

"You’re so embarrassing," Sehun mumbled, and Zitao pinched him. "I tried to hate you. You look like a perfect asshole when you’re all dressed up, you know." 

"Yes, but because I’m perfect, right?" Zitao laughed. "So do you hate me? Or are you willing to take me back?" 

"I think I should be the one asking that," Sehun said quietly, shifting their bodies so that the sun shone onto their wet clothes. "If I wait at the house in mountains, will you return to me?" 

"Maybe you don’t have to wait any more." Zitao bit his lip. "I don’t know if you’d like staying at the Ehm royal palace, but our Master of Poetry is looking for a new apprentice, and I might be able to pull a few strings if you were interested in that position." 

Sehun paused. "You mean... I could live with you and study poetry?" 

"You’d probably have your own separate chamber on the palace grounds, but..." Zitao winked. 

Sehun laughed. He pictured himself sitting in an Ehm-style garden, writing languidly while Zitao sat beside him under the yellow boughs of a willow tree in autumn. 

"I accept," he said, and Zitao – a prince, a boy, his love – pushed Sehun’s hair off his forehead, kissed his brow and looked into Sehun’s eyes with nothing but adoration. 

*** 

Sitting on the timber floor, Sehun summoned the memory of a waterfall in the springtime so vividly he could taste the freshwater vapour. He began to write, paying careful attention to his strokes. He was penning the final few characters of his poem when the door to his room slammed open. 

"Yo, are you coming? They’ll be leaving soon," Luhan said. 

Sehun continued his steady calligraphy. "They can wait another few minutes." 

Luhan grumbled, "Princes," before leaving. 

Sehun stamped his seal in the corner and, while waiting for the ink to dry, surveyed the other three works he had completed earlier that day, trying to critique them through the eyes of the Master of Poetry. Ehm’s royal poet was a hard man to please, but Sehun had learnt much in the couple of months under the Master’s tutelage. 

Folding his latest poem into his pocket, Sehun put on his jacket and shoes and made his way through the palace to the inner gate. Zitao and Minseok stood by their horses as Luhan gave last minute advice about the north-western climate, his arm comfortably linked with Minseok’s. 

Luhan noticed Sehun first, teasing, "The Prince of Kae finally deigns to join us!" 

"I’ll miss you," Zitao said, giving Sehun’s hand a squeeze. He was uncertain how long his company would be engaged in the north-west. The conflict had been escalating with the enemy’s increasingly desperate attacks, but Sehun trusted Zitao could handle it, especially with Minseok’s ruthless arm by his side. 

"Don’t fret, I’ll look after him," Luhan said, tucking Sehun under his arm. 

"Keep your dirty hands to yourself," Zitao warned, glaring at Luhan. 

Minseok, however, merely gave Sehun a wry smile, confident that the Kae prince could never make Luhan’s devotion waver, which Sehun thought was much more terrifying than any threat. 

"Take care," Sehun said, and tucked the folded poem into Zitao’s belt. "Read it later. You can tell me what you think of it when you get back." 

Luhan wolf whistled but Minseok whispered something in his ear that made Luhan blush and splutter. 

"I’ll return soon," Zitao said, blowing Sehun a kiss and turning Candy towards the road. 

Sehun waved. Maybe in Zitao’s absence he might take a trip to Kae to visit Junmyeon, or just to ride in the woods with the river by his side. Travelling was different now that he had a reason to come back home. 

He smiled at Zitao’s receding figure. "I’ll be waiting." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is a bittersweet pairing for me to write, haha. I hope you enjoyed this fic - please feel free to leave comments or criticism! Also, many thanks to the Golden Exo Fest mods and participants, especially to my prompter for providing beautiful inspiration ♥


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